The  Betty  Wales  Girls 

J  t 

and  Mr.  Kidd 


A  Play  based  on  the 
Bettv  Wales  Books 


MARGARET    WARDE 


The 

Betty  Wales  Girls 
and  Mr.  Kidd 


BY 
Margaret  Warde 

Author  of  The  Betty  Wales  Books 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
1912 


COPYRIGHT  1912  BY  THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


PROLOGUE 


Dear  Girls  who  Liked  BETTY  WALES:— 

As  those  Harding  girls  would  say,  I  have 
intended  to  write  this  play  for  you  for  "perfect 
ages."  But  I  could  n't  think  how  to  do  it,  until 
one  day  last  winter,  when  it  came  to  me  all  of  a 
sudden  that  it  ought  to  go  like  this.  So  here 
it  is. 

I  never  tried  to  write  a  play  before,  but  I 
have  often  helped  girls  to  pick  out  plays,  and 
then  "coached"  them  in  their  parts.  All  kinds 
of  girls  they  have  been:  High  School  girls,  Col- 
lege girls,  and  girls  in  my  Settlement  Class  in 
Chicago,  who  had  to  go  to  work  instead  of  to 
High  School,  but  who  were  clever  actresses  all 
the  same.  So  I  realized  that  it  is  n't  very  easy 
to  find  entertaining  plays  for  just  girls  to  act, 
and  I  hope  that  this  one  will  sometimes  fill 
the  bill. 

If  you  have  n't  done  so  already,  you  ought 
to  read  some  of  the  "BETTY  WALES"  books 
before  you  "produce"  this  play — particularly 
"BETTY  WALES,  JUNIOR,"  from  which  part  of 
the  plot  of  the  play  is  taken.  Then  you  will 
know  how  all  the  characters  ought  to  look 
(though  looks  don't  matter  so  much),  and  talk 
and  act;  and  that  will  help  you  in  assigning  the 
parts,  and  later  in  acting  them  successfully.  I 


think  you  will  find  that  everybody  has  some- 
thing to  do  while  she  is  on  the  stage.  But  what- 
ever you  do,  don't  any  of  you  sit  around  doing 
nothing  but  looking  scared  and  unhappy.  Act 
as  you  do  off  the  stage,  when  you  are  with  a 
crowd  of  lively  girls,  and  then  the  play  will  "go." 

If  you  wish  to  change  Roberta's  "stunt"  for 
one  that  some  member  of  your  cast  knows  how 
to  do,  you  can  quite  easily  alter  the  lines.  Or, 
if  you  would  rather  shorten  the  play,  you  can 
leave  the  "stunt"  out,  by  changing  the  dialogue 
just  a  little. 

And  if  you  should  want  a  second  BETTY 
WALES  play,  after  you  have  all  acted  this  one, 
why,  perhaps  I'll  write  another. 

MARGARET  WARDE. 


CHARACTERS 


BETTY  WALES          .          .         An  all-around  girl 
HELEN  CHASE  ADAMS      .     Formerly  her  room- 
mate, a  "dig" 
MADELINE  AYRES  .      An  original  young  person 

from  Bohemia,  New  York 
MARY  BROOKS         .     A  patronizing  but  popular 

senior,  an  inveterate  tease; 

also  editor  of  the  Harding 

"Argus." 

BABBIE  HILDRETH    )    The  Three  B's.,  a  joyous 
T,       -r,  (    trio,  going  through  college 

BOB  PARKER  Qn  >£  c*niagio*  of  thfir 

BABE  HENDERSON    )  smiles 

ROBERTA  LEWIS  .  Of  a  retiring  nature,  but 
possessed  of  originality; 
adores  Mary  Brooks 

•  Miss  PRISCILLA  HICKS  Better  known  as  "Miss 
Prunes  and  Prisms 
Hicks,11  (Prissy  for 
short);  English  instruct- 
or at  Harding  College 

GEORGIANA  ARMS  .  A  long-suffering  junior, 
born  without  a  sense  of 
humor 

THE  REAL  GEORGIA  AMES  .  An  innocent 
round-faced  sub-freshman 

TIME: — Two  hours. 


SYNOPSIS  OF  SCENES 


ACT  I.    Betty's    room    at   the    Belden   House, 
Harding  College. 

GEORGIA  ENTERS  COLLEGE 

ACT  II.  The  Note  Room,  College  Hall. 

(Three  weeks  later.} 
"WHO  IS  GEORGIA  AMES?" 

ACT  III.    As  in  Act  I. 

(Three  weeks  later.} 
GEORGIA  AND  MR.  KIDD 


The  Story  of  the  Play 


This  is  a  play  based  upon  the  Betty  Wales 
books,  which  have  been  popular  with  girls  all 
over  the  United  States.  Betty  and  her  friends, 
students  at  Harding  College,  invent  a  "Fresh- 
man" named  "Georgia  Ames,"  in  order  to  hoax 
Mary  Brooks,  a  Senior,  and  to  mystify  the 
College.  They  submit  stories  in  "Georgia's" 
name  to  the  College  paper,  of  which  Mary  is 
editor,  and  send  "Georgia"  flowers  and  notes. 
The  whole  College  is  asking — "Who  is  Georgia 
Ames?"  Miss  Prissy  Hicks,  a  teacher,  puts 
"Georgia's"  name  on  her  class  roll.  Mary 
Brooks,  discovering  the  trick,  turns  the  tables 
by  inventing  "Mr.  O.  Upton  Kidd,"  supposed 
to  be  a  student  at  Winsted  College,  near  by. 
Betty  and  her  friends  think  he's  a  real  man, 
coming  to  Harding  to  see  "Georgia."  They  are 
about  to  meet  him  and  apologize  when  Mary 
explains  her  revenge,  introduces  "the  real 
Georgia  Ames, "  and  is  forgiven. 

ACT  I.  Betty's  room.  The  girls  elect  Betty 
to  give  a  party.  Roberta's  "Mock  Turtle" 
stunt.  "Bob"  Parker  wants  a  "double"  and 
Madeline  invents  one.  "Let's  call  her  'Georgia 
Ames,'  and  use  her  to  tease  Mary."  Babbie 
lets  the  fudge  burn.  Mary  smells  it  and  enters. 
"What  were  you  talking  about ? "  " Do  n't  you 
wish  you  knew?" 


ACT  II.  The  "note  room,"  College  Hall. 
Georgia's  violets  make  a-  hit.  Babbie's  Paris 
handkerchief.  "Georgia's  getting  expensive." 
Roberta  gets  back  the  stories  sent  to  the  college 
paper.  Miss  Hicks  thinks  Betty  is  Georgia. 
"I  have  a  note  from  your  mother."  Georgiana 
Arms  does  n't  like  the  way  mail  is  mixed.  "She 
must  be  a  queer  person!"  Roberta  drops  the 
stories;  Mary  finds  them,  and  sees  through  the 
hoax.  "Two  can  play  at  that  game." 

ACT  III.  Betty's  room.  Getting  ready  for 
"Prom.  Tea."  Prissy  Hicks  is  suspicious. 
Georgia's  queer  telegram.  "Will  reach  Hard- 
ing four-thirty.  O.  Upton  Kidd."  "There 
must  be  such  a  man."  The  girls  frightened. 
Enter  Mary  Brooks.  "The  gloom  I  feel  is  very 
deep."  She  waves  the  telegram.  "O.  Upton 
Kidd — oh,  you  kids."  Mary  introduces  the 
real  Georgia  Ames. 


COSTUMES 


BETTY.  About  20.  A  bright,  tactful  girl  of 
the  kind  who  is  popular  with  faculty  and  stu- 
dents alike.  Acts  I  and  II,  shirt-waist  or  plain 
school  dress,  with  coat  or  cape  in  Act  II.  In 
Act  III,  wears  pretty  summer  dress  and  hat. 

HELEN.  About  21.  Rather  prim  and  retir- 
ing. In  all  acts  wears  shirt-waist  and  skirt,  and 
glasses.  May  wear  coat  in  Act  II. 

MADELINE.  About  23.  She  is  artistic,  a  little 
older,  and  has  a  rather  more  assured  manner 
than  the  other  girls.  Shirt-waist  and  skirt,  or 
plain  spring  suit  in  all  acts. 

MARY.  About  22.  Small,  clever,  animated, 
pretty.  In  Acts  I  and  II,  shirt-waist  and 
skirt,  with  coat  in  Act  II.  In  Act  III  wears 
pretty  muslin  or  linen  dress,  with  hat. 

BABBIE.  About  20.  Pretty,  popular,  and 
very  feminine.  In  Acts  I  and  II,  shirt-waist 
and  skirt,  or  plain  suit.  In  Act  I,  may  also 
wear  wrap,  but  no  hat,  and  coat  or  cape  in  Act 
II.  In  Act  III  wears  pretty  lingerie  dress  and 
big  hat,  suitable  for  afternoon  tea,  and  carries 
a  long-stemmed  rose;  a  very  "dressy"  young 
lady. 

BOB.  About  20.  Tall  and  handsome,  just  a 
little  mannish  in  manner.  In  Acts  I  and  II, 
shirt-waist  and  skirt  or  plain  cloth  suit.  May 
wear  wrap  at  entrance  in  Act  I.  In  Act  III, 
wears  gymnasium  suit  and  bloomers  under 
rain-coat  and  carries  gymnasium  shoes  by  their 
strings. 

BABE.  About  20.  Attractive,  popular,  but  a 
little  timid.  In  Acts  I  and  II,  handsome 


shirt-waist  and  skirt.  In  Act  I  may  also  wear 
wrap  at  entrance.  In  Act  III  wears  elaborate 
lingerie  dress  and  hat,  and  carries  a  parasol. 

ROBERTA.  About  21.  Very  quiet  and  stu- 
dious. In  Act  I,  shirt-waist  and  skirt  over 
gymnasium  bloomers.  In  Act  II,  shirt-waist 
and  skirt  or  plain  school  dress.  In  Act  III, 
plain  but  elegant  summer  dress  with  hat.  For 
"Mock  Turtle"  costume  in  Act  II,  see  "prop- 
erties." 

Miss  HICKS.  About  50.  Angular  and  severe, 
with  gray  hair  and  glasses.  Plain  shirt-waist 
costume  or  cloth  suit.  In  Act  II  may  wear 
shawl,  and  may  wear  afternoon  costume,  with 
hat,  in  Act  III,  if  preferred. 

GEORGIANA.  About  21.  Rather  heavy  and 
unattractive.  Wears  shirt-waist  and  skirt. 

GEORGIA.  About  16  or  17,  but  looks  younger. 
Wears  pretty  summer  dress  and  hat. 


10 


PROPERTIES 


For  BETTY — Four  small  sealed  envelopes; 
letter  in  an  envelope  that  has  been  torn  open; 
pair  of  long  gloves. 

For  MADELINE — Small  pitcher  of  milk,  small 
plate  of  butter. 

For  MARY — Long  sealed  envelope;  note- 
book; pencil. 

For  BABBIE — Lace  handkerchief. 

For  BOB — Book,  floor  cushions;  florist's  box 
suitable  for  bunch  of  violets. 

For  BABE — Sugar,  chocolate,  chafing-dish 
with  lamp,  bottle  of  alcohol,  matches,  cup, 
plate,  spoon,  note-book,  visiting  card. 

For  ROBERTA — Long  envelope  containing 
folded  papers.  For  the  Mock  Turtle  Dance  in 
Act  I,  animal  head  mask,  two  oval  "shells"  of 
gray  cardboard  or  building-paper,  laced  to- 
gether at  sides,  stockings  drawn  loosely  over 
hands  and  arms,  bloomers,  slippers.  By  slight 
changes  and  omissions,  some  other  dance  or 
"stunt"  may  easily  be  substituted  for  the  Mock 
Turtle  Dance. 

For  Miss  HICKS — Books  and  papers;  two 
notes  in  sealed -envelopes,  note-book. 

For  GEORGIAXA — Telegram;  stamped  and 
addressed  package  containing  photograph. 

OTHER  PROPERTIES— large  bell  or  gong;  water- 
pitcher  full  of  roses;  vase  of  violets;  papers  and 
books  in  desk;  an  evening  dress  and  slippers. 


ii 


SCENE  PLOTS 


X~\ 


//        COUCH  TA 


BLE  6  CHAIR* 


up  R.  to  hall,  and  up  L.  to  closet. 


ornaments,  college  pennants,  posters,  banners, 


12 


ACT  II.  Note  Room  in  College  Hall.  En- 
trances up  R.  and  L.  Long  table  back.  Box 
with  slit  in  top,  against  wall,  R.  Bulletin  Board 
or  letter-rack  against  wall  L.  Back  wall  covered 
with  signs,  such  as  "Glee  Club,  Attention! 
Rehearsal  at  7  to-night.  Important."  "Open 
Meeting,  Dramatic  Club.  T.  Roosevelt,  im- 
personated by  Emily  Davis,  will  speak  on  the 
Gentle  Art  of  Lying. "  "  For  Sale,  Chafing-dish, 
good  as  new.  Used  only  4  years, "  etc.,  etc. 


«3 


ACT  I 

SCENE:    BETTY'S  room  at  the  Belden  House. 

TIME:  An  evening  in  March.  Exits,  up  L., 
leading  to  closet,  and  up  R.  leading  to  corridor. 
Screen  in  corner  up  L.;  desk  L.;  couch  with 
pillows  R;  tea-table  C.;  easy-chairs  by  table; 
floor  cushions,  R.  front;  a  few  more  chairs; 
pictures,  posters,  banners,  etc.,  to  give  requisite 
college  atmosphere. 

Curtain  rises  on  the  empty  room.  Banging 
on  door  R.  Bob  Parker  sticks  her  head  in  the 
door,  and  enters,  book  under  her  arm. 

BOB.  I  say,  Betty  Wales!  Um-nobody  here. 
Light  on,  though,  and  everything  looks  as  if 
she'd  fixed  up  for  a  quiet  evening  at  home. 
She'll  be  back  in  a  minute.  Guess  I'll  wait. 
(Pulls  off  wrap  and  tucks  it  away  on  end  of  couch; 
saunters  around  room,  curls  up  on  couch,  and 
opens  book.}  It's  funny;  I  can  always  study 
better  in  other  girls'  rooms,  only  generally  I 
can't  find  an  empty  one. 

MADELINE  (sticks  her  head  in  door  R.).  Bon- 
jour,  Ma'mselle,  Est-ce  vous  etes  chez  vous  ce — 

BOB.  Hello,  Betty!  You  were  n't  here,  so  I 
—(Looks  up)  Oh,  hello,  Madeline!  I  thought 
you  were  Betty.  Go  'way!  I'm  studying. 

MADELINE  (preempting  the  easiest  chair,  near 
tea-table).  Thanks,  I  think  I  will  stay  a  minute, 
since  you're  so  extremely  pressing. 

BOB  (shutting  her  book).  How  sweet  of  you! 
Make  yourself  quite  at  home,  do!  Have  a 
cushion.  (Shies  one  at  her.)  Have  you  done 
your  Psychology  for  to-morrow? 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

MADELINE.  No,  but  I've  spent  five  solid 
hours  grinding  on  English  Essayists.  For  the 
rest  of  to-morrow's  classes  my  motto  is:  Bluff 
if  you  can;  otherwise  flunk. 

%  BOB  (sadly}.  That's  all  right  for  a  prod,  like 
you.  It  would  be  "otherwise  flunk"  with  me, 
every  last  time.  (Sits  up  straight.}  I  wish  our 
dear  faculty  would  get  together  occasionally  and 
count  up  what  they're  asking  of  us.  They'd  see 
that  we  simply  can't  do  it  all  without  using 
trots  or  something  like  that;  and  in  the  very 
worst  things,  like  Psych,  and  English  Essayists, 
there  aren't  any  trots. 

BABE  (calls  outside}.  I  say,  Betty,  have  you 
seen  Bob  Parker? 

i  BOB  (lying  back  again}.  No,  she  has  n't  seen 
me,  'cause  she  is  n't  in  here,  and  I  am. 

BABE  (entering}.  Oh,  Bob,  I've  been  looking 
all  over  the  campus  for  you.  Mary  Brooks  said 
she  saw  you  rushing  towards  the  Infirmary,  and 
you  looked  as  though  you  had  something  con- 
tagious. 

BOB  (grimly}.  That  Mary  Brooks  is  too 
funny.  She  ought  to  be  suppressed.  What's 
the  matter,  Babe? 

BABE.  Why,  there's  a  meeting  of  the  House 
Play  Committee  in  your  room.  They  sent  me 
to  find  you.  Did  you  forget  about  it? 

BOB  (loftily}.  No,  I  did  n't.  I  remembered 
about  it,  and  fled.  Go  back  and  tell  'em  that 
they're  welcome  to  the  room,  and  I'm  sorry  it's 
so  mussy. 

BABE.    But,  Bob — 

16 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BOB.  But  nothing.  I'm  too  busy  to  attend 
to  any  committee  meetings  to-night.  I'm 
studying  Psych.  That  is,  I  ought  to  be,  and  I 
would  be  too,  if  Madeline  Ayres  would  n't  insist 
on  staying  here  and  bothering  me.  (Shies 
another  pillow.) 

MADELINE  (gets  up  to  arrange  the  two  pillows 
comfortably).  I'm  not  staying  to  bother  you, 
nor  to  be  bothered  by  you.  I'm  staying  to  jolly 
Betty  Wales  into  having  a  fudge  party.  I've 
worked  so  hard  to-day,  that  I'm  completely 
exhausted, — also  simply  famished. 

BOB.     So  am  I! 

BABE.  So  am  I!  (Pulls  off  her  coat  and 
sits  down  on  a  floor  cushion,  her  back  against 
couch.) 

MADELINE.  Oh,  if  that's  the  way  we  all  feel 
about  it,  the  matter  becomes  quite  simple. 
We'll  just  unanimously  elect  Betty  Wales  to 
have  a  fudge  party  for  us.  Is  that  the  sense  of 
the  meeting? 

BOB  (flourishing  her  book).  She's  hereby 
elected ! 

BABE.  It's  getting  late.  I  wish  she'd  come 
along  back,  so  we  could  start  the  fudge.  (Goes 
upL.) 

MADELINE.  Start  it,  if  you  're  in  such  a  mad 
rush.  We  needn't  wait  for  Betty. 

BOB  (jumping  up  and  investigating  under  the 
tea-table).  Of  course  not!  She  wouldn't  want 
us  to.  (Moves  chafing-dish  from  shelf  of  table  to 
top.) 

BABE  (investigating  in  closet  up  L.).     Here's 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

sugar,  and  chocolate,  and  alcohol.  (Arranges 
them  on  table.}  But  what  '11  we  do  for  butter 
and  milk? 

MADELINE.  Oh,  I  forgot  butter  and  milk. 
The  person  who  elects  another  person  to  have  a 
party  is  supposed  to  provide  the  ingredients 
that  can't  be  kept  on  hand.  That's  a  Rule. 
(Gets  up  reluctantly.}  I'll  go  and  blarney 
Belden-House-Annie  out  of  some.  (Exits  R.} 

BABE  (filling  the  lamp).  I  hope  that  House 
Play  Committee  is  n't  worrying  its  head  off 
about  me. 

BOB  (gloomily,  stopping  her  efforts  to  mix  the 
fudge}.  Don't  mention  that  committee,  Babe. 
I  ought  to  be  up  there  this  minute,  and  I  ought 
to  be  studying  Psych.,  and — I  ought  not  to  be 
here,  I  s'pose.  But  I  am  just  fearfully  hungry 
for  fudge,  and  besides,  if  you  don't  take  some 
recreation,  you  ruin  your  health.  I  should  just 
hate  to  ruin  my  health. 

(Enter  Betty  Wales  and  Helen  Adams,  R.} 

BETTY.  Hello,  girls!  If  you  see  anything  you 
do  n't  want,  ask  for  it. 

BOB  (calmly}.  Oh,  hello,  Betty!  It's  lucky 
you  Ve  come.  You  've  been  elected  to  give  a 
fudge  party  for  Madeline  and  us  two, — and  for 
Helen  Chase,  of  course.  (Measures  chocolate  in 
spoon.} 

BETTY.    Oh,  but  Bob  — 

BABE  (pours  in  sugar}.  And  we  thought 
you'd  like  us  to  get  things  started,  so  the  fudge 
would  get  surely  done  in  time. 

BETTY.    Oh,  but  Babe— 

18 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

MADELINE  (entering).  Voila,  the  butter  and 
the  milk!  (Puts  cup  and  plate  on  tabu.)  Fire 
up  now,  Babe.  (Sits  down  in  easy  chair.)  Hello, 
Betty,  is  n't  this  an  extra-specially  splendif- 
erous party?  Are  n't  you  glad  you  were  elected 
to  have  it? 

BETTY.  (Laughs  and  sits  on  floor  cushion. 
Helen  -perches  on  edge  of  couch.  Resignedly,  to 
Helen.)  I  told  you  so,  Helen!  (To  the  others.) 
Helen's  room  was  awfully  noisy,  because  Lucile 
Merrifield's  crowd  were  all  in  there  doing  their 
Livy.  So  we  came  up  here,  to  find  a  quiet  place 
to  study  Psych. 

BOB  (going  back  to  couch).  Why,  that  was 
just  what  I  came  for! 

MADELINE.  Oh  well,  "the  best-laid  plans  of 
mice  and  men,"  you  know.  Don't  you  feel  for 
a  fudge  party, Betty?  Helen  Chase  does,  I  know. 

BETTY.  Yes,  I  feel  just  exactly  like  a  party. 
(Jumps  up  and  goes  to  table.)  If  you  don't  stir 
that  fudge,  Babe,  it  will  burn,  sure  as  anything. 
But  I  ought  to  be  studying  Psych.,  and  I  ought 
to  be  starting  my  Argument  paper,  and  I  ought 
to  be  over  at  the  Westcott  encouraging  the 
freshman  basket-ball  centre,  who  is  sure  they 
can't  win,  and — 

MADELINE.  That's  enough,  Betty.  We  all 
ought  to  be  doing  something  else,  so  let's  settle 
down  to  enjoy  ourselves. 

BETTY  (sitting  down  again  on  floor  cushions). 
If  there  were  two  of  me,  I  think  I  could  get 
along  beautifully  in  classes,  and  have  a  little 
time  left  over  for  fun.  But  as  it  is — 

'9 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

MADELINE  (leaning  forward  as  though  struck 
by  a  sudden  thought).  I  say,  Betty,  that's  a 
great  idea !  What  a  person  needs  in  this  college 
is  a  double. 

BABE  (turning  her  back  on  the  fudge).  What's 
a  double? 

MADELINE.  Why,  a  second  self,  of  course — 
another  of  you,  to  do  the  things  you  have  n't 
time  for,  and  the  things  you  hate,  or  can't  do 
well. 

HELEN.  Madeline  Ayres,  how  perfectly 
absurd! 

MADELINE.  Oh,  I  don't  know.  To-night, 
for  instance,  my  double  could  have  done  Psych, 
and  Logic  for  the  two  of  us,  while  I  did  English 
Essayists. 

BOB.  While  you  wandered  around  organizing 
fudge  parties  and  keeping  the  rest  of  us  from 
doing  Psych.,  you  mean,  Madeline  Ayres. 

HELEN  (laughingly).  I  should  n't  care  to  be 
your  second  self,  Madeline.  You'd  make  a 
regular  drudge  of  her.  (Eagerly.)  If  I  had  a 
second  self,  I  should  make  her  a  perfectly  fasci- 
nating person.  She  should  do  just  exactly  as 
she  pleased  without  caring  what  people 
thought. 

BOB  (sitting  up  straight).  That's  the  kind  of 
double  I  want — to  say  all  the  outrageous  things 
I  want  to  and  don't  dare. 

HELEN.  And  to  believe  all  the  lovely  things 
you  want  to,  only  you  are  afraid  people  will 
think  you're  crazy. 

MADELINE.     My  double  might  be  a  drudge, 

20 


THE      BETTY      WALES     GIRLS 

Helen  Chase,  but  yours  would  certainly  be  a 
freak,  and  that's  much  worse. 

BABBIE  (appearing  in  door,  R.).  Do  I  smell 
fudge,  or  don't  I?  (Enters.) 

MADELINE.  Very  possibly  you  do,  Babbie, 
but  you  can't  come  in.  This  party  is  strictly 
limited  to  those  already  present. 

BOB  (going  to  look  at  fudge  and  sitting  on  arm 
of  Madeline's  chair) .  Oh,  let  her  in ! 

BABE  (abandoning  the  fudge  and  gesturing  at 
Madeline  with  her  spoon).  You  can't  separate 
the  three  B.'s,  you  know. 

BETTY.  It  is  n't  my  party,  Babbie.  They 
elected  me  to  have  it,  and  now  they  're  running 
it  to  suit  themselves. 

MADELINE.  Well,  come  along  in,  Babbie, 
only  you  must  n't  eat  much  fudge,  and  the  next 
person  who  wants  to  come  in  can't,  unless  she 
does  a  stunt  for  us.  That's  a  Rule.  (Putts  floor 
cushion  to  a  retired  corner  and  sits  down,  her  head 
in  her  hands,  thinking.  Babbie  takes  off  her  even- 
ing cape  and  hangs  it  over  screen,  then  sits  on 
vacant  arm  of  easy-chair.) 

ROBERTA  (appearing  in  door,  R.)  Is  this  a 
party  ?  (Stands  just  inside  door.) 

BABE.  Does  it  look  like  a  Psychology 
"cram?" 

BETTY.    It  is  n't  my  party,  Roberta. 

BABE  (stops  stirring.)  It's  an  extra-specially 
limited  party,  Roberta.  No  admission  unless 
accompanied  by  your  best  stunt. 

HELEN.  That's  the  Mock  Turtle  for  you,  of 
course,  Roberta. 

21 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

ROBERTA.  Oh,  don't  make  me  do  that  Mock 
Turtle.  It's  too  much  trouble  to  dress  up  for 
it.  (Babe,  Bob  and  Babbie  drag  her  down  C.} 

THREE  B.'s  (in  chorus,  dancing  around  Ro- 
berta). We  want  the  Mock  Turtle,  the  Mock 
Turtle,  the  Mock  Turtle! 

MADELINE  (comes  out  of  brown  study  and 
takes  easy-chair.}  Hurry  up,  Roberta!  Because 
as  soon  as  you're  through,  there's  a  very  im- 
portant business  matter  to  come  before  this 
party.  I  hereby  call  a  special  meeting  of  the 
Merry  Hearts  Club  to  consider  it. 

ALL.    What? 

MADELINE  (mysteriously.}  Wait  and  see. 
Are  you  going  to  do  the  Turtle,  Roberta,  or 
are  n't  you  ? 

ROBERTA.  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  I  am.  I'll  go 
and  get  its  things.  (Exits  R.} 

BETTY.  I  smell  something  burning!  You 
girls  are  n't  paying  any  attention  at  all  to  the 
fudge.  I'm  sure  I  smell  it  burning.  (Goes  to 
investigate.  Everybody  sniffs,  and  crowds  around 
the  table.} 

BOB  (examining}.  I  don't  believe  it's  much 
burned. 

BABBIE  (bringing  a  cup  of  water  from  behind 
screen}.  Maybe  it's  done.  Try  it  and  see. 

BABE,  (feels  in  cup}.  No,  it's  all  gone  to 
nothing  in  the  water.  I  don't  see  how  it  can  be 
much  burned,  if  it's  not  nearly  done. 

BETTY.  Babe,  your  ideas  about  cooking  are 
perfectly  delicious.  (Sits  down  again  as  before; 
so  do  MADELINE  and  HELEN.  Enter  Roberta  as 

22 


THE      BETTY     WALES      GIRLS 

Turtle.  See  "Properties."  Her  skirt  may  be 
dropped  behind  screen  as  she  comes  in,  or  may  be 
tucked  up  under  shell.) 

THREE  B.'s  (dancing  around  her).  Hurrah 
for  the  Mock  Turtle!  The  Beautiful  Mock 
Turtle!  The  Matchless  Mock  Turtle! 

MADELINE.  Sit  down,  everybody,  and  be 
quiet.  (All  obey.)  Helen  Chase,  you  be  Alice 
in  Wonderland  for  her,  because  your  hair  is  so 
straight.  (HELEN  meekly  retires  behind  screen.) 

BETTY.  For  once  it's  an  advantage  to  have 
curly  hair. 

(HELEN  reappears,  her  hair  hanging,  after  the 
fashion  of  TennieFs  Alice,  and  sits  on  cushions  in 
centre  of  room.  Roberta  dances  back  and  forth 
before  her,  chanting.  All  the  girls  join  in  the  second 
chorus.) 

"Beautiful  Soup,  so  rich  and  green, 
Waiting  in  a  hot  tureen! 
Who  for  such  dainties  would  not  stoop? 
Soup  of  the  evening,  beautiful  Soup! 
Soup  of  the  evening,  beautiful  Soup! 

Beau — ootiful  Soo — oop! 

Beau — ootiful  Soo — oop! 
Soo — oop  of  the  e — e — evening, 

Beautiful,  beautiful  Soup! 

"Beautiful  Soup!  Who  cares  for  fish, 
Game,  or  any  other  dish? 
Who  would  not  give  all  else  for  two 
Pennyworth  only  of  beautiful  Soup  ? 
Pennyworth  only  of  beautiful  Soup? 

23 


THE     BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

Beau — ootiful  Soo — oop! 
Beau — ootiful    Soo — oop ! 
Soo — oop  of  the  e — e — evening, 
Beautiful,  Beauti— FUL  SOUP!" 

(The  tune  is  "Star  of  the  Evening,  Beautiful 
Star, "  found  in  many  old  music  collections.  By 
omitting  song  and  making  slight  alterations  in 
other  lines,  some  other  "stunt"  may  easily  be 
substituted  for  the  Mock  Turtle  Dance.) 

BABE  (who  has  neglected  her  fudge  again  during 
the  Turtle's  song).  Is  n't  she  lovely?  (Begins  to 
stir  again.) 

ROBERTA  (taking  off  her  costume  behind  screen, 
while  HELEN  puts  up  her  hair  there.  Calls  from 
behind  screen).  Now  tell  us  the  important  busi- 
ness, Madeline.  (BABE  stops  stirring.) 

BETTY.  I  do  think  I'd  better  look  after  the 
fudge. 

BABE.  Oh  no,  please  let  me!  Nobody  ever 
lets  me  cook. 

MADELINE.  I  wonder  why.  Now  silence! 
I  move  that  we — The  Merry  Hearts — have  a 
double.  (Turns  to  screen.)  A  second  self,  that 
means,  Roberta.  We  discussed  them  before 
you  came.  Let's  invent  one,  and  all  use  her — 
not  exactly  a  second  self,  but  an  imaginary  girl, 
to  amuse  ourselves  with,  by  making  her  do  nice, 
amusing,  stunty  things,  to  mystify  the  college. 
(HELEN'S  head  appears  for  a  moment  as  she  does 
up  her  hair.) 

HELEN.  But  an  imaginary  girl  couldn't  go  to 
classes,  Madeline,  because  she  couldn't  recite. 

24 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

MADELINE.  Well,  she  can  hand  in  written 
work,  can't  she?  I'll  do  a  ten-minute  theme  for 
her  to-morrow  in  English  Essayists,  and  Miss 
Prunes  and  Prisms  Hicks  will  swallow  her  whole, 
all  right,  and  stick  her  on  her  class  roll.  See  if 
she  does  n't!  Days  when  she's  called  on,  she 
can  just  happen  to  be  absent.  I  often  wish  I 
could  manage  that  way. 

BABE.  Oh,  Madeline,  it  would  be  fun — but 
it's  awfully  risky. 

BETTY.  That's  what  makes  it  such  fun. 
What  shall  we  name  her?  She's  got  to  have  a 
name. 

MADELINE.  Oh,  one  name's  as  good  as 
another,  if  it's  not  too  fancy.  Let's  call  her — 
Georgia  Ames. 

BOB.  Sounds  almost  like  Georgiana  Arms. 
Georgiana  will  be  furious. 

MADELINE.  I  hope  so.  If  she  is,  she'll  talk 
about  it,  and  every  little  helps. 

BABE.  Girls,  it's  a  perfectly  crazy  scheme. 
I  think  — 

BABBIE  (rising).  Now  Babe,  where's  your 
nerve?  I  hereby  move  that  Georgia  Ames — 
what  class  is  she,  Madeline? 

HELEN  (coming  from  behind  screen).  She'd 
better  be  a  freshman,  had  n't  she,  taking  some 
upper-class  work?  Then  it  won't  seem  so  queer 
that  nobody  else  but  us  knows  about  her. 

BABBIE.  Well,- 1  hereby  move  that  we  elect 
Georgia  Ames,  freshman,  a  member  of  the 
Merry  Hearts. 

25 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

MADELINE.  She's  elected.  Welcome  to  the 
Merry  Hearts,  Georgia!  (Pretends  to  shake 
hands  and  then  to  kiss  the  new  member  effusively.} 

BOB  (laughing}.  Madeline  and  Helen  will 
have  to  attend  to  Georgia's  scholarship  record — 
they're  the  only  ones  who  can  make  Prissy 
Hicks  sit  up  and  take  notice.  The  rest  of  us 
will  see  to  her  social  career. 

BABE  (turning  away  from  chafing-dish}.  Well, 
I'm  in  it,  if  the  rest  of  you  are.  (Turns  back  to 
table  to  examine  lamp  of  chafing-dish  and  arranges 
lamp  so  it  will  go  out} 

BETTY.    Let's  have  her  quite  athletic. 

BABBIE  (sitting  on  a  cushion}.  And  very 
popular  with  the  men! 

BETTY.  We  can  write  letters  to  her,  ad- 
dressed to  Harding  College. 

BABBIE.    On  our  stuntiest  note-paper. 

MADELINE.  Get  our  traveling  friends  to 
mail  'em  from  various  interesting  spots. 

BOB  (waving  a  pillow).  We'll  cover  the  bulle- 
tin board  in  the  Note  Room  with  letters  to  G. 
Ames. 

ROBERTA  (coming  out  from  behind  screen}. 
Georgia  is  to  be  a  rather  clever,  literary  person, 
isn't  she,  Madeline? 

MADELINE.  Well,  rather!  Trust  Helen 
Chase  and  me  to  make  her  the  bright-and- 
shiniest  star  of  English  Essayists. 

ROBERTA.  Oh,  goody!  Because  then  I've 
thought  of  a  lovely  way  to  use  Georgia,  to  play 
a  joke  on  Mary  Brooks.  Only  Mary  must  n't 
know  about  her  beforehand. 

26 


THE      BETTY     WALES      GIRLS 

BOB,  BABBIE,  BABE  (advancing  on  Roberta). 
To  tease  Mary  Brooks?  (ROBERTA  nods  vigor- 
ously.) 

BETTY  (enthusiastically).  If  Georgia  Ames 
can  be  used  to  tease  Mary  Brooks,  who's  teased 
us  almost  to  death  ever  since  we  came — 

MADELINE  (emphatically).  If  she  can  be  used 
to  fuss  Mary  Brooks,  I  shall  not  have  invented 
her  in  vain.  Explain  yourself  instantly, 
Roberta. 

ROBERTA.  Why,  you  know  Mary  thinks  I 
can  write.  I  can't,  but  I  can't  make  her  see 
that  it's  only  because  she  likes  me  that  she 
thinks  I  can.  Now  that  she's  an  editor  of  the 
"Argus"  she's  always  trying  to  make  me  do 
stories  and  verses.  She  says  if  I  only  would,  I'd 
be  famous,  and  get  into  Dramatic  Club,  and  all 
that. 

MADELINE.  Probably  she's  right,  Roberta, 
but  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  Georgia  ? 

ROBERTA.  Well,  I — I  have  written  some 
verses  and  two  little  stories,  but  I  was  ashamed 
to  send  them,  because  I'm  sure  they're  no  good 
at  all.  So  now  I'll  just  let  Georgia  Ames,  a 
literary  freshman,  send  them.  If  Mary  returns 
them,  it  will  be  a  good  joke  on  her. 

MADELINE.  Great  thought,  Roberta!  Of 
course  I  hope  she  keeps  'em  and  prints  'em  as 
Georgia's.  The  joke  will  be  just  as  good  either 
way.  Now  girls,  let's  start  Georgia  off 
gradually. 

BOB.  Yes.  It's  better  to  go  rather  slow  at 
first  with  a  good  thing  like  her. 

27 


THE     BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

HELEN.  I  can't  do  much  for  her  till  after  my 
Argumentative  is  in. 

ALL.    Of  course  not!    Neither  can  we! 

MADELINE.  All  right.  Just  keep  her  going 
till  Arguments  are  off  our  minds.  Then  every- 
body here  present  is  pledged  to  add  a  touch  to 
the  complete  and  beautiful  presentment  of  Miss 
G.  Ames. 

BABBIE  (The  B's,  arms  around  each  other's 
necks,  BABE  waving  her  spoon,  dance  across  the 
room,  dragging  MADELINE  with  them).  A  stylish 
touch! 

BOB.    A  stunty  touch! 

BABE.    A  touch  of  mystery! 

MADELINE.  But  above  all  a  touch-down  on 
little  Mary  Brooks ! 

ALL.    Touch-down!   Touch-down! 

ROBERTA  (looking  out  door}.  Sh!  She's 
coming!  All  be  careful. 

MARY  (appearing  in  door).  Good  evening, 
little  friends.  Did  I  hear  my  name  just  now? 
(Mary  enters,  R.) 

MADELINE  (drops  down  on  couch).  Nothing 
is  more  probable,  Mary.  I  just  remarked  that 
I'd  told  a  freshman  prod.  I  know  to  send  some 
things  to  you  for  the  "Argus." 

MARY  (carelessly  approaching  the  fudge). 
That's  good.  Never  forget  the  "Argus."  I 
say,  Babe,  is  this  the  way  you  cook  fudge? 

BABE  (indignantly}.  It's  perfectly  good 
fudge,  Mary  Brooks.  You  smelled  it  and  came 
in  on  purpose  to  get  some. 

MARY.    I  smelled  it  burning  all  right  a  while 

28 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

ago,  and  I  came  in  now  on  the  chance  that  it 
was  n't  utterly  ruined.  If  you'd  start  up  the 
fire,  Babe,  it  might  be  perfectly  good  fudge 
some  time  to-morrow  morning.  (Sits  down  in 
MADELINE'S  easy-chair.) 

BABE  (gaspingly  investigating).  Well,  people 
never  let  me  cook  — 

MARY.     Do  you  wonder  at  that,  my  child? 

BABE  (going  to  table).  So  of  course  I  did  n't 
notice  that  the  lamp  had  gone  out.  It  has  gone 
out,  sure  as  anything. 

BOB  (standing  beside  Babe).  It's  not  Babe's 
fault,  Mary  Brooks.  We  were  all  seeing  to  that 
fudge. 

BABBIE  (standing  with  the  other  B's).  Yes, 
and  we  all  got  terribly  interested  talking,  and 
forgot. 

MARY.  All  I  have  to  say  is,  it  takes  this 
particular  crowd  to  have  a  fudge  party — and 
forget  the  fudge. 

(Bell  rings  behind  scenes.} 

BABE.  Oh  dear,  there's  the  ten-minutes-of 
bell!  It  can't  possibly  get  cooked  now.  I  am 
awfully  sorry,  girls. 

BETTY.  Never  mind,  Babe.  I'll  finish  it  in 
the  morning  and  send  you  all  some.  (Takes 
plate,  etc. ,  from  table  to  closet.} 

MARY.    Don't  forget  me. 

MADELINE.  And  don't  forget  what  we've 
been  talking  about. 

ALL.    I  should  say  not!    Easily  not! 

MARY.    What  were  you  talking  about? 
(B.'s  join  hands  and  face  MARY.) 

29 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BOB.     Guess! 

BABE.    Don't  you  wish  you  knew? 

BABBIE.    Maybe  you  will  know  some  day. 

THREE  B's  (in  chorus).  More  than  you  want 
to,  maybe. 

MARY  (with  dignity}.  Did  I  hear  the  ten- 
minutes-of  bell  a  while  ago,  or  did  n't  I  ? 

ALL  EXCEPT  BETTY  AND  MARY.  Good-night. 
Don't  forget  about  the  fudge.  (Exit  laughing.) 

MARY.  Oh  dear,  now  I've  missed  something! 
And  the  moral  of  that  is:  Come  when  you  first 
smell  the  fudge. 

BETTY  (picking  up  cushions  and  putting  them 
in  place  on  couch).  The  early  bird,  you  know, 
Mary. 

MARY  (thoughtfully).  Hmm.  You  girls  are 
up  to  something.  You'll  bear  watching,  Betty 
Wales.  Good-night. 

BETTY  (very  sweetly).  The  Merry  Hearts  are 
always  worth  watching,  Mary  Brooks. 

CURTAIN. 


ACT  II 

SCENE:    The  Note  Room,  College  Hall 

TIME  :  Nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  three  weeks 
after  Act  I. 

STAGE:  Exits  up  L.  and  up  R.  Back  wall 
covered  with  signs:  "Glee  Club,  Attention!  Re- 
hearsal at  7  to-night.  Important!  "  "  Open  Meet- 
ing Dramatic  Club.  T.  Roosevelt,  impersonated  by 
Emily  Davis,  will  speak  on  the  Gentle  Art  of 
Lying;"  "For  Sale,  a  Chafing-Dish,  good  as  new, 
used  only  four  years;"  etc.  On  wall  L.  bulletin 
board,  or  a  letter  rack  to  display  mail  and  notes  for 
students.  Against  back  wall,  long  table  littered 
with  handkerchiefs.  A  box,  with  slit,  to  receive 
themes,  hangs  on  wall  R. 

Curtain  rises  on  BABBIE  and  BABE,  entering 
the  room,  R.,  the  former  ostentatiously  carrying  a 
handkerchief  by  one  corner. 

BABE  (pointing  at  the  table).  There,  Babbie, 
I  told  you  they'd  changed  to  Tuesday  for  put- 
ting out  the  lost  handkerchiefs. 

BABBIE.  It's  lucky  you  did  tell  me,  or  I 
should  have  had  to  wait  a  whole  week  to  do 
this  touch.  Is  n't  it  noble  and  self-sacrificing 
of  me  to  give  Georgia  Ames  my  very  best  hand- 
embroidered  Paris  handkerchief?  See,  I've 
marked  it  in  indelible  ink — Georgia  Ames. 

BABE  (examines  it).  I  guess  that  will  make  a 
sensation,  when  the  girls  get  to  pawing  around 
here  among  the  Losts  and  Founds.  They'll  say 
"Who's  Georgia  Ames?"  louder  than  ever,  when 
they  see  that  handkerchief.  Has  n't  Georgia 
been  a  success,  though  ? 

31 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BABBIE.  Great!  (Sighs).  But  she's  getting 
terribly  expensive  to  keep  up! 

BABE.  I  should  say  she  is!  Those  engraved 
cards  I  got  for  her  cost  me  three  large  round 
dollars.  But  the  one  I  stuck  under  Jean  East- 
man's door  certainly  made  a  hit. 

(Enter  BOB,  R.,  carrying  a  florist's  box.) 

BABE  (holds  up  handkerchief).  Look,  Bob! 
Is  n't  Babbie's  touch  for  Georgia  perfectly 
lovely?  It's  marked,  you  see,  and  she's  going 
to  add  it  to  the  janitor's  weekly  dump  of  lost 
handkerchiefs  and  watch  the  girls  sit  up  and 
say  "Who's  Georgia  Ames?" 

BOB.  And  eventually  she's  going  to  call  it  in, 
I  s'pose. 

BABBIE.  I  hope  to,  but  it's  an  afwul  risk. 
Somebody  may  take  it  to  that  Georgiana  Arms 
by  mistake,  and  then  she'll  forget  to  return  it. 

BOB.  It  certainly  is  a  risk!  Look  at  this  box. 
(Opens  it  dramatically,  to  display  an  empty  in- 
terior.) This  is  where  I  risked  and  lost — lost  a 
bunch  of  violets  as  big  as  your  head. 

BABBIE.  Oh,  what  a  shame!  (Looks  at  hand- 
kerchief longingly.) 

BABE.     How  did  it  happen,  Bob? 

BOB.  Well,  it's  a  long,  sad  story.  (All  sit 
down  in  a  row  on  table.)  You  see,  Georgia's  a 
very  popular  girl.  Popular  girls  have  violets 
sent  to  them.  So  I  ordered  some  for  Georgia. 
I  had  them  sent  to  the  Westcott,  because,  when 
the  Westcott  sits  up  and  takes  notice,  the  whole 
college  does. 

32 


THE      BETTY     WALES      GIRLS 

BABBIE.  And  living  right  there,  you  thought 
you  could  rescue  them  easily  afterwards. 

BOB.  You're  a  mind  reader,  Babbie.  But  it 
did  n't  work.  I  ordered  a  lot  of  violets,  because 
I'm  naturally  reckless  and  generous.  I  ordered 
'em  sent  at  eight  A.  M.,  so  everybody  would 
see  'em  on  their  way  out  to  chapel.  Well,  at 
nine-six  prompt,  I  sneak  down  to  snatch  my 
violets,  and  — 

BABE.  And  carry  them  to — whom  did  you 
say,  Bob  ? 

BOB.    Never  you  mind,  smarty. 

BABBIE.    Let  her  go  on,  Babe.    Go  on,  Bob. 

BOB.  Well,  Molly  Vance  was  standing  in  the 
hall,  looking  at  the  box  as  if  she'd  like  to  eat  it. 
"I've  called  up  Lacy's  about  these  violets," 
said  she  to  me.  "Oh!"  I  said  to  her.  "They 
don't  know  who  sent  'em,"  said  she.  "Don't 
they?"  said  I.  "Maybe  there's  a  card  in  the 
box."  We  looked.  The  card  said  "To  dear 
Georgia  from — scrawl,  scrawl,"  all  in  my  bold 
masculine  hand,  carefully  disguised.  "Why 
don't  you  put  'em  in  water  for  her?"  said  I, 
bound  to  be  game.  "If  I  see  her,  I'll  tell  her 
they're  here.  She  boards  somewhere  off  the 
Campus,  I  suppose."  Of  course,  Moll  jumped 
at  it.  She  nobly  offered  to  share,  but  I  pointed 
out  to  her  that  when  Georgia  came  for  her 
violets  she  might  prefer  to  find  'em  all  in  one 
place.  Now,  is  n't  that  the  complete  limit  of 
bad  luck? 

BABBIE.  Poor  old  Bob!  But  maybe  we 
won't  have  the  whole  Westcott  House  assembled 

33 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

in  Moll's  room  after  lunch,  oh-ing  and  ah-ing 
over  Georgia's  violets.  Girls,  we've  done  it  this 
time!  There  are  scores  of  people  in  this  college 
who  think  Georgia  Ames  is  a  real  person. 

BABE.  I  can't  help  wondering  if  there  is 
such  a  girl  somewhere.  What  would  she  do  to 
us  for  taking  such  liberties  with  her  name? 

BOB  (stoutly).  Humph!  There  ain't  no  sich 
a  person.  But  if  there  should  be  and  she  comes 
to  Harding,  she'll  have  to  thank  us  for  making 
her  a  career  in  advance.  (Looks  R.)  Drop 
that  handkerchief,  quick,  Babbie.  Somebody's 
coming!  (BABBIE  puts  handkerchief  on  table 
and  they  all  go  up  L.  and  assume  a  deep  interest 
in  the  signs.) 

(Enter  BETTY  WALES,  R.). 

BABBIE  (turning).  Oh,  it's  only  Betty  Wales! 
I  showed  her  my  touch  last  night. 

BETTY  (to  BOB).  Bob,  who's  getting  violets 
from  you,  now? 

BOB  (displaying  box).    Georgia's  violets! 

BABBIE.  Georgia's  handkerchief!  (Picks  it 
up  and  waves  it.) 

BABE  (produces  a  card  from  her  note-book). 
Georgia's  visiting  card! 

BETTY.  Is  n't  Georgia  growing  fast,  though! 
(  Turns  to  the  end  of  bulletin  board  down  L.)  And 
the  bulletin  board  is  fairly  covered  with  letters 
for  her  to-day.  One,  two,  three,  four! 

THREE  B.'s.  Why,  we  never  looked!  (They 
come  down  L.,  and  crowd  around  board,  reading 
and  laughing.  Betty  takes  notes  from  Board.) 

34 


THE      BETTY     WALES      GIRLS 

BETTY  (holds  one  up).  This  one  went  to  the 
Belden,  and  Georgiana  Arms  opened  it  by 
mistake. 

BABBIE.    As  usual! 

BOB.  Well,  I  told  you  she'd  get  mixed  up 
with  Georgia.  But  she  goes  around  wailing  to 
everybody  about  "those  confusing  letters  and 
parcels,"  so  it's  all  right.  It  all  counts  for 
Georgia. 

(Enter  HELEN  ADAMS,  L.) 

BOB.  Hello,  Helen,  have  you  done  your 
Georgia- touch  yet? 

BETTY.    Oh,  she's  done  a  beautiful  touch ! 

BABE.    What  was  it? 

HELEN.  I  wrote  a  note  to  Prissy  Hicks  from 
Georgia's  mother  — 

BETTY.  Mrs.  Erasmus  J.  Ames  —  (The 
THREE  B.'s  laugh.) 

HELEN.  Saying  that  the  strain  of  ten-minute 
tests  was  wearing  on  Georgia's  health. 

THREE  B.'s.  Lovely!  Perfect!  What  did 
Prissy  say  to  that? 

HELEN.  I  wrote  it  only  last  night.  But  I 
don't  suppose  we  shall  ever  know  what  she 
says,  because  I  had  Mrs.  Ames  give  her  address 
as  Palm  Beach. 

BABE.  We  can  write  to  have  the  letter  for- 
warded. Or  maybe  Prissy  will  speak  about  it 
in^class. 

BOB.  That's  just  like  Prissy — to  jeer  at  Mrs. 
Erasmus  J.  right  out  in  class. 

(Enter  ROBERTA,  R.  Walks  straight  to  bulletin 
board.) 

35 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BABBIE  (sits  down  on  table}.  My  cousin, 
Belle  Everts,  is  in  New  York  this  week,  and 
she's  written  Georgia  a  long  letter  from  the 
Vanritzdorf.  She  sent  me  a  copy.  I  saw 
Georgiana  Arms  open  it  this  morning,  and  I 
hope  she  read  it  all.  It's  simply  rich! 

ROBERTA  (after  searching,  pounces  upon  a  long 
envelope).  Girls,  here  are  my  stories  and  verses 
from  the  "Argus!"  —  Georgia's,  I  mean.  (Goes 
up  C.  to  table.  All  crowd  around  her.) 

BETTY.    Really?    The  last  one  you  sent,  too? 

ROBERTA  (nods).  Yes,  all  of  them.  Oh,  and 
here's  a  polite  note,  saying  —  (pauses)  — that 
my  work  shows  promise,  and  she  hopes  I'll  try 
again  —  next  year. 

BOB.    When  she's  no  longer  on  the  "Argus!" 

BABE.  Oh  me,  oh  my!  Little  Mary  will 
never  hear  the  last  of  this! 

BABBIE \,  (warningly.)  Remember  she  is  n't 
to  know  y&fc  awhile,  though ! 

(Enter  PRISSY  HICKS,  laden  with  books  and 
papers.  Walks  to  bulletin  board  and  sticks  up  two 
letters.  Stands  down  R.  consulting  a  memoran- 
dum, while  the  girls  pretend  to  read  signs  and  look 
at  handkerchiefs  as  they  watch  her.) 

BABE  (sneaks  to  bulletin,  points  to  the  notes  and 
whispers).  She  put  up  one  for  Jean  Eastman. 
A  warning,  I'll  bet.  And  another  for  —  for 
Georgia  Ames!  (Skips  joyously.) 

BABBIE  (warningly).    Be  careful,  Babe. 

BOB  (groaning.)    Why  does  n't  she  go? 

PRISSY  (adjusts  books,  and  suddenly  notices 
girls).  Good  morning,  young  ladies.  (Singles 

36 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

out  BETTY,  near-sightedly.)  Ah,  this  meeting  is 
most  fortunate!  If  it  had  occurred  yesterday 
it  would  have  saved  me  the  trouble  of  writing  you. 

BETTY  (much  frightened.)  I  —  I'm  sorry, 
Miss  Hicks.  I  had  a  class  yesterday  at  this 
hour,  so  I  could  n't  be  h — here  then. 

Miss  HICKS.  Nonsense!  Naturally  we 
cannot  control  chance  meetings.  I  received  a 
note  from  your  mother  last  evening.  I  really 
can't  account  for  the  foolishness  of  mothers. 

BETTY  (desperately) .  I  did  n't  ask  her  to 
write,  Miss  Hicks.  I  did  n't  know  she  had 
written. 

Miss  H.  Don't  apologize,  child.  I  thought 
you  were  n't  to  blame.  But  why  so  brilliant  a 
student  as  you  should  have  occasion  to  com- 
plain to  her  family  of  my  written  work,  I  really 
can't  imagine. 

BETTY.  I  —  I'm  not  brilliant,  Miss  Hicks. 
I  —  there  must  be  some  mistake. 

Miss  H.  (smiling).  The  distinguished  quality 
of  Georgia  Ames's  work  precludes  the  confusion 
of  her  with  the  multitude  of  merely  average 
attainment. 

BETTY.  But  Miss  Hicks,  I'm  —  I'm  not 
Georgia  Ames.  I'm  —  just  Betty  Wales. 

Miss  H.  (vtryicily.)  Then  who  is  Georgia  Ames? 

BETTY.  I — I  don't  know,  Miss  Hicks.  I 
mean —  (glibly)  she's  a  freshman,  taking  some 
upper-class  work.  She  does  n't  board  on  the 
Campus.  She  — 

Miss  H.  Where  do  you  sit  in  my  class,  Miss 
WTales?  I  never  noticed  you. 

57 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BETTY.  On  the  back  row,  generally,  Miss 
Hicks,  with  — 

Miss  H.  Beware  of  a  back-row  reputation, 
Miss  Wales.  Good-morning. 

BETTY.  Good-morning,  Miss  Hicks.  (Exit 
Miss  HICKS.  BETTY  makes  a  tragic  gesture.) 

BOB.  And  good  riddance!  Now  you're  in 
for  it,  Miss  B.Wales! 

BABE.    She'll  remember  to  call  on  you ! 

BABBIE.     And  she'll  blame  Georgia  on  you! 

BETTY  (sits  on  table  uneasily.  The  THREE  B.'s 
also  sit.  HELEN  and  ROBERTA  Z,.,  near  board}. 
Oh  dear!  I'm  the  most  unlucky  person! 

BOB.  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  You  have  n't 
just  lost  a  perfectly  huge  bunch  of  violets. 

BABBIE.  Nor  risked  losing  a  Paris  handker- 
chief. 

HELEN  (tragically  pacing  up  and  down  stage). 
I  knew  I  ought  n't  to  write  that  letter.  I  felt 
as  if  it  was  sort  of  forging.  And  if  it  gets  Betty 
into  trouble,  I  shall  never,  never  forgive  myself! 

(Enter  MADELINE,  L.,  smiling  at  her  friends.) 

MADELINE.  Hello,  Merry  Hearts!  Why  so 
cheerful  this  morning?  (She  plucks  GEORGIA'S 
latest  note  from  the  bulletin  board.) 

HELEN.  Oh  Madeline,  do  be  careful!  It's 
from  Prissy  Hicks,  and  she  just  put  it  there. 

MADELINE  (reads.)  My  dear  Miss  Ames: 
Kindly  report  to  me  in  my  rooms  at  the  Hilton 
at  four  P.  M.  to-day,  Tuesday. 

Yours  sincerely, 

Priscilla  Hicks. 
That's    easily    settled.       (Replaces    note.)       If 

38 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

Georgia  does  n't  get  it  in  time  to  go,  —  she  can't 
go.  I  suppose  Prissy  wants  to  discuss  your 
touch,  Helen. 

(Enter  GEORGIANA  ARMS,  gloomily.) 

BOB.  Hello,  Georgiana,  tell  us  your  secret 
sorrow. 

BABBIE.  You  have  n't  any  warnings  to-day, 
Georgiana. 

BABE.  Not  one!  We  noticed  particularly. 
So  do  cheer  up! 

GEORGIANA  (scans  bulletin  suspiciously.)  This 
time  she's  taken  off  all  her  old  letters  —  or  all 
but  one. 

THREE  B.'s.    Who? 

GEORGIANA.  That  Georgia  Ames.  I'm  sick 
and  tired  of  having  her  mail  mixed  up  with  mine. 
(Lops  against  wall,  R.} 

HELEN.  Why  don't  you  look  at  the  addresses 
before  you  open  your  letters?  The  names  are 
quite  different. 

GEORGIANA.  Yes,  but  all  her  friends  write  so 
illegibly  that  often  I  can't  possibly  be  sure. 
That  is,  not  till  I've  read  most  of  the  letters.  I 
think  her  friends  do  it  on  purpose. 

MADELINE.  Nonsense,  Georgiana!  You're 
not  so  important  as  all  that. 

GEORGIANA.  Well,  it's  very  annoying.  I 
think  it  ought  to  be  stopped.  Do  any  of  you 
know  where  Georgia  Ames  lives? 

ROBERTA.  Palm  Beach  in  winter.  Is  n't 
that  her  mother's  winter  address,  Helen? 

GEORGIANA.  Oh,  I  mean  where  does  she 
board  in  Harding,  of  course. 

39 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BOB.     Somewhere  off  the  Campus. 

GEORGIANA  (much  annoyed).  Somewhere  off 
the  Campus!  That's  what  everybody  says. 
She  must  be  a  queer  person — this  Georgia  Ames 
— to  keep  her  boarding-place  so  secret. 

BABBIE  (confidentially).  I've  heard  she  was — 
well,  not  queer,  Georgiana,  but  just  a  little 
eccentric. 

BABE.  She's  awfully  popular,  that's  one  sure 
thing. 

GEORGIANA.  Well,  if  she  does  n't  let  the 
post-office  know  her  correct  address  pretty  soon, 
I  shall  —  I  shall  - 

BOB.  Why  do  you  bother  us  with  your 
troubles,  Georgiana? 

BABE.  We're  not  Georgia  Ames's  parents 
and  guardians. 

BABBIE.    We  don't  know  her  correct  address. 

GEORGIANA.  You  asked  me  about  my 
troubles,  and  I  think  you  know  an  awful  lot 
about  Georgia  Ames,  considering  how  little  you 
know.  (Going  up  L.) 

MADELINE.  We  are  but  human,  Georgiana. 
Now  we  know,  and  now  we  don't.  Run  along, 
or  you'll  be  late  for  —  for  something.  (Aside.) 
Is  n't  she  a  bore?  (At  door  L.,  GEORGIANA 
collides  with  MARY  BROOKS,  who  is  hurriedly 
entering  the  note  room.) 

GEORGIANA.  If  people  would  only  look  where 
they're  going  —  (Exits  L.) 

(Enter  MARY  BROOKS,  still  running,  in  spite  of 
GEORGIANA'S  terrific  onset.  She  goes  to  box  up  R.) 

40 


THE      BETTY      WALES     GIRLS 

MARY  (sticks  envelope  into  box).  There,  that 
theme  is  in  just  exactly  four  minutes  before  it's 
too  late.  Hello,  children!  (Looks  at  handker- 
chiefs.) I've  got  just  about  time  to  hunt 
through  these  for  the  dozen  I've  recently  lost, 
before  I  go  up  to  ornament  the  front  row  at 
George  Garrison  Hinsdale's  ten  o'clock  quiz. 
Always  sit  on  the  front  row  when  you're  not 
prepared,  children!  Oh,  what  a  darling  hand- 
kerchief! Somebody  was  careless  to  lose  that 
one.  (Squints  at  name.  ROBERTA  goes  up  to 
look  at  handkerchief,  and  remains  R.)  Georgia 
Ames  —  oh,  my  freshman  would-be  contributor! 
I  say,  Madeline,  was  Georgia  Ames  the  fresh- 
man prod,  that  you  said  you'd  turn  loose  on  me? 

MADELINE  (coolly.)     Yes.     Why? 

MARY  (turns,  still  holding  handkerchief).  Why 
indeed?  She's  flooded  me,  fairly  flooded  me, 
with  the  most  impossible  themes!  She  may  be 
a  prod.,  and  a  nice  girl,  and  all  that,  but  she 
can't  write.  (Snickers  from  the  B.'s.  MARY 
turns  upon  them.)  Do  you  know  her,  too? 

BABBIE.    Yes,  we  know  her. 

BOB.  She's  a  great  girl,  and  some  people 
think  she  can  write. 

BABE.  Yes,  Prissy  Hicks  thinks  so,  for  one. 
Georgia  takes  advanced  English,  you  know, 
and  Prissy  talks  about  "the  distinguished 
quality"  of  her  work.  I've  heard  her,  myself. 

MARY.  Honestly?  (Looks  again  at  handker- 
chief, and  puts  it  on  table.) 

BABBIE.     I've  heard  her,  too. 


THE      BETTY     WALES      GIRLS 

BOB.  "Distinguished  quality"  is  going  some 
for  Prissy,  you  know,  Mary. 

MARY  (goes  hurriedly  to  bulletin  board).  Then 
maybe  her  things  were  better  than  I  thought! 
Maybe  I  was  sleepy  when  I  read  them!  But 
Laurie  said  they  were  no  good,  too!  Still,  I 
guess  I'd  better  write  a  different  sort  of  note  to 
a  freshman  that  Prissy  Hicks  praises.  Oh  dear, 
she's  taken  her  things  away! 

ROBERTA  (trying  to  act  natural).  Well,  they 
were  hers  to  take,  were  n't  they,  Mary?  (The 
girls  on  the  table  are  all  giggling.} 

MARY.  Yes,  —  but  they've  been  here  only 
a  minute  —  just  since  after  chapel.  Seems 
funny  —  Prexy  kept  the  freshmen  after  chapel, 
and  he's  still  talking  to  them.  I  don't  see  how 
she  had  a  chance  to  get  down  here  so  quick. 
Bob  Parker,  what  are  you  laughing  at? 

BOB.  A  joke  —  only  one  of  Madeline's  silly 
old  jokes.  Come  on,  Helen,  it's  time  to  go  to 
Chemistry  Lab. 

BABBIE.  And  we  ought  to  hurry  right  over 
to  Logic! 

(Exit  L.  MADELINE,  BOB,  BABE,  BABBIE, 
HELEN  and  BETTY.  MARY  eyes  them  suspi- 
ciously as  they  go.  ROBERTA  is  about  to  follow, 
but  is  embarrassed  and  drops  the  envelope  she 
holds.) 

MARY  (sweetly).  You  dropped  something, 
Roberta!  (MARY  picks  up  envelope,  which 
ROBERTA  hastily  snatches.) 

ROBERTA.    Oh,  thank  you,  Mary.    (Exit  L.) 

MARY.      Don't    mention     it,    Roberta! 

42 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

(Significantly.)  Don't  mention  it-  (Alone, 
looks  again  at  GEORGIA'S  handkerchief  and  puts 
it  on  table.  Makes  sure  the  coast  is  clear,  then 
hastily  reads  PRISSY*S  note.}  One  of  Madeline's 
silly  old  jokes,  was  it?  Let's  see  —  they  were 
talking  about  Georgia  Ames.  And  they  said 
they  were  laughing  at  Madeline's  silly  old  joke. 
Roberta  Lewis  wrote  those  things  and  signed 
them  Georgia  Ames.  I  thought  one  of  them 
sounded  a  lot  like  Roberta.  Oh,  I've  got  it! 
They've  invented  this  Georgia  Ames,  those 
children!  Well,  upon-my-word !  They've  cer- 
tainly fooled  Harding  College  to  the  limit.  But 
they  could  n't  fool  me,  —  not  for  long,  at  least. 
And  if  the  joke  is  on  me  now,  it's  going  to  be  on 
them.  I'll  get  the  best  of  them  somehow!  Let 
me  see.  (Sits  down  on  note-room  table,  thinks, 
and  then  scribbles  on  blank  pages  of  note-book. 
Reads  out  as  she  writes.)  "  My  dear  Miss  Ames : 
Too  bad  you  can't  come  to  our  prom.  You 
can't  imagine  how  I've  counted  on  it.  Your 
promise  of  your  picture  is  poor  consolation,  but 
—  well,  you  can  safely  bet  that  it  will  have  the 
place  of  honor  in  these  diggings. 
"Am  off  for  a  Sunday  in  New  York. 

"Yours  ever," 

HowTl  I  sign  it?  I  know!  "O.  Upton  Kidd!" 
There!  I'm  proud  of  that.  It  sounds  enough 
like  a  note  from  a  nice  stunty  Winsted  college 
man  to  take  in  —  even  me.  When  my  cousin- 
by-courtesy  Bill  has  copied  it  on  his  best  Delta 
Nu  paper  in  his  bold  masculine  hand  and  posted 
it  at  Winsted,  I  guess  something  will  be  started. 

43 


THE     BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

And  when  —  he  —  writes  again  and  says  —  Oh 

—  I  see  it  all!    It's  going  to  be  simply  perfect! 
The  joke's  on  little  Mary,  is  it?     (Skips  joy- 
ously.)   Well,  rather  not!    Now  I  must  go.    The 
nine-to-ten  crowd  will  be  pushing  in  here  in  a 
minute.     (She  goes  to  door  R.  and  stops.}     Oh, 
that  handkerchief!    (Runs  to  table  and  picks  up 
handkerchief.}     I  guess  I'd  better  keep  that  — 
for  Georgia.     (Noise  of  tramping   and   talking 
heard  off.    MARY  pauses  at  door  R.)     And  the 
moral  of  this  is  —  two  can  play  at  the  same 
game!    (Laughs  and  exits,  R.) 

(Enter  hurriedly  Z,.,  BABBIE,  who  runs  to  the 
table,  and  BABE  and  BETTY,  who  stand  in  door.} 

BETTY.     Do  hurry,  Babbie.     We'll  be  late. 

BABBIE  (searching  wildly  among  handker- 
chiefs}. Oh,  it's  not  here.  It's  gone! 

BABE.    It  can't  be! 

BABBIE  (anxiously}.  Are  you  sure  none  of 
our  crowd  took  it? 

BETTY.  Yes.  I'm  sure  not  one  of  us  thought 
of  it  again  after  Mary  Brooks  laid  it  down  there. 
(Points  to  table.} 

BABBIE  (dramatically}.    Mary  Brooks!    Girls 

—  Mary  Brooks  took  that  handkerchief,  after 
all! 

BETTY,  BABE.    Mary  Brooks! 

CURTAIN. 


44 


ACT  ra 

SCENE:  BETTY'S  room. 

TIME  :  Three  weeks  later,  early  in  the  afternoon 
of  "Junior  Prom.  Day." 

STAGE:  Same  as  Act  I,  except  that  a  water- 
pitcher  full  of  roses  stands  on  floor  near  screen, 
and  a  big  bunch  of  violets  on  the  open  shelf  of  desk, 
in  the  midst  of  a  litter  of  papers.  An  evening 
dress  with  slippers  to  match  is  spread  out  on  the 
couch. 

Curtain  rises  on  BETTY  WALES,  standing  in 
door,  R.,  half  facing  audience,  calling  into  hall. 

BETTY  (excitedly).  Oh,  Helen!  Helen  Chase 
Adams!  Please  come  quick  and  hook  me  up! 

BOB  (in  hall).  Helen  Chase  is  n't  around,  I 
guess,  but  I'll  hook  you  up.  (Enters,  wearing 
raincoat  over  gym  suit,  and  swinging  gym  shoes 
by  their  strings.) 

BETTY.  Why,  Bob  Parker!  Where's  your 
man?  Is  n't  he  coming?  Why  are  n't  you  at 
home  dressing  for  the  teas? 

BOB  (attacking  hooks).  Oh,  my  man  is  coming 
all  right — unless  he's  sprained  his  ankle  —  or 
broken  his  neck  —  or  something.  And  I'm 
going  to  dress  —  presently.  I  was  n't  going  to 
miss  a  perfectly  good  basket-ball  game  for  any 
old  Prom,  day  teas,  I  can  tell  you.  After  the 
game  I  just  dashed  around  here  to  return 
Helen's  Psychology  note-book  that  I  borrowed 
a  —  long  —  time  —  ago.  These  hooks  are  the 
limit,  Betty. 

BETTY.  I  know  it.  Are  you  sure  you  have 
time  to  bother,  Bob? 

45 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BOB.  Sure!  I've  got  loads  of  time  —  it's 
fifteen  minutes  before  my  man  Samuel  can 
possibly  turn  up.  Besides,  it  won't  hurt  him  to 
wait  awhile. 

BETTY  (turns  upon  her).  Bob  Parker,  are  n't 
you  the  least  little  bit  excited  ? 

BOB  (whirls  BETTY  around  and  begins  hooking 
again}.  Two  more  hooks,  Betty.  Well  —  may- 
be. But  I'm  keeping  all  my  hair  on. 

(Enter  BABE,  R.,  arrayed  for  a  tea,  in  light 
dress  and  hat,  carrying  parasol.) 

BABE  (rushes  at  couch).  Oh,  Betty,  what  an 
adorable  dress!  (To  BOB.)  Go  to  your  room 
this  minute,  Bob,  and  get  ready  for  the  teas. 

BOB.  I'm  going  —  presently.  There,  you're 
hooked,  Betty.  (BETTY  goes  behind  screen,  and 
is  half  visible  putting  on  hat  before  a  supposed 
mirror.)  No  wonder  men  think  girls  are  foolish 
—  the  flutter  they  get  into  over  a  little  old 
dance!  (Knock  on  door,  R.) 

BETTY  (absently,  busy  with  hat).  Come  in! 
(Enter  MADELINE,  R.) 

BOB.  Welcome  to  our  city!  Why  so  cold  and 
formal  as  to  knock? 

MADELINE.  I  feel  cold  and  formal,  and 
lonely,  and  cross.  Dick  wires  that  he  can't  get 
here  till  seven,  so  I'm  not  in  on  the  teas. 

BOB.  Oh,  take  my  man  Samuel!  I  loathe 
teas.  It  makes  my  head  ache  just  to  think  of 
'em.  Please,  Mad! 

MADELINE.  No,  thank  you.  I've  decided  to 
devote  this  afternoon  to  Georgia  Ames.  In  the 

46 


THE      BETTY     WALES      GIRLS 

Prom,  excitement  she's  been  awfully  neglected. 
(Sits  down  sadly  in  small,  straight-backed  chair.) 

BABE  (sits  on  couch).  I  say,  why  did  n't  we 
think  to  have  Georgia  go  to  the  Prom.  ? 

BOB  (perches  on  arm  of  easy-chair).  Why, 
indeed?  She'd  have  been  right  in  her  element 
when  her  men  disappeared  into  thin  air. 

MADELINE.  Girls!  I  may  as  well  own  up 
first  as  last,  I  suppose.  I've  been  so  busy  lately 
doing  a  skit  for  Dramatic  Club,  —  and  enjoying 
Spring  term,  —  that  I've  bluffed  through  every- 
thing, even  English  Essayists.  And  even  I 
can't  bluff  for  two! 

BETTY  (reappears,  hat  on  and  long  gloves  in  her 
hand).  Oh,  Madeline,  you  mean  you  have  n't 
been  doing  Georgia's  ten-minute  tests? 

MADELINE.  Yes,  that's  what  I  mean. 
Georgia  has  had  the  nerve  to  cut  English 
Essayists  three  times  running.  She  wrote 
Prissy  the  first  time,  to  say  she'd  been  ill. 

BOB.     Was  n't  Prissy  suspicious? 

MADELINE.  Suspicious!  I  should  think  so. 
Now  she  demands  a  doctor's  certificate.  I've 
just  taken  her  note  to  that  effect  off  the  bulletin 
board.  So  Helen  Chase  and  I,  being  special 
committee  on  Georgia's  scholarship,  are  going 
to  devote  the  afternoon  to  evolving  a  way  of 
pacifying  Prissy. 

(Enter  HELEN,   R.) 

HELEN.  Oh,  here  you  are,  Madeline!  Betty, 
how  sweet  you  look!  (Wanders  about,  looking  at 
dress,  smelling  flowers,  etc.) 

BOB.     Is  n't  she  terribly  cute  in  that  hat? 

47 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

Have  you  seen  Babbie  Hildreth  anywhere, 
Helen?  I  sort  of  think  she  promised  to  wait 
around  till  I  came,  and  then  supervise  my 
Prom.-tea  toilet. 

HELEN.  Oh,  I  did  see  her  —  downstairs 
somewhere.  She  asked  if  I'd  seen  you. 

BOB.  I'll  go  and  find  her,  and  tell  her  not  to 
worry  about  me,  because  young  Samuel  does  n't 
care  a  rap  about  glad  rags.  He  never  saw  me 
except  in  tennis  things,  and  if  I  look  too  grand 
to-day  he  might  —  (Exit,  R.) 

MADELINE.  Speaking  of  flowers,  Betty 
Wales !  (Goes  to  desk  and  picks  up  violets.} 

BETTY.  Is  n't  it  dreadful  of  Tom  to  send  so 
many?  He  wrote  that  he  was  color-blind,  but 
he  hoped  one  or  the  other  (points  to  roses  and 
smells  violets]  would  go  with  a  white  dress. 

MADELINE.  What  a  nice  absurd  Tom!  (Puts 
violets  on  desk.) 

(Enter  ROBERTA,  R.,  very  dignified  and  elegant 
and  unhappy  in  her  best  clothes.} 

ROBERTA.  Oh,  Betty,  do  I  look  all  right? 
You  and  Babe  are  too  dear  for  anything! 

(Enter  R.,  BOB  and  BABBIE,  the  latter  arrayed 
for  the  teas  and  carrying  a  long-stemmed  rose. 
They  are  dragging  between  them  GEORGIANA 
ARMS,  on  the  verge  of  tears.} 

BOB  (excitedly).  Georgia  Ames  has  got  a 
telegram! 

BABBIE.    And  a  package! 

GEORGIANA  (tearfully}.  The  telegram  fright- 
ened me  almost  to  pieces.  I  think  it's  a  perfect 
shame  — 

48 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

MADELINE  (gravely).  It  is,  Georgiana.  No 
one  who  saw  you  now  could  think  otherwise. 

GEORGIANA.  I  thought,  of  course,  that  my 
Prom,  man  was  n't  coming. 

BABBIE.  Of  course.  And  that  he'd  sent  you 
a  consolation  package.  It  all  fitted  together 
like  a  detective  story. 

GEORGIANA.  You're  making  fun  of  me, 
Babbie  Hildreth!  Are  n't  you  ever  frightened 
when  you  get  a  telegram? 

ROBERTA.  When  she  thinks  she  gets  one, 
you  mean,  Georgiana. 

GEORGIANA  (snappily).    It's  the  same  thing. 

BABBIE  (aside).  Be  nice  to  her,  and  then 
she'll  go,  and  we  can  read  it.  (To  GEORGIANA). 
Certainly,  I  am  awfully  frightened  at  telegrams, 
Georgiana. 

BOB.  She  gets  'em  about  twice  a  week, 
Georgiana  —  every  time  she  forgets  to  write 
home  for  a  day.  So  you  can  imagine  her 
habitual  state  of  mind,  poor  thing! 

BABE.  She  can  sympathize  with  you,  Georgi- 
ana, and  so  can  we  other  two  B.'s,  who  live 
near  her. 

MADELINE.  Don't  leave  me  out,  Babe.  I 
sympathize  too,  Georgiana,  —  so  deeply  that 
I'll  even  undertake  to  get  the  telegram  to 
Georgia  for  you. 

GEORGIANA.  I  don't  much  care  whether  she 
gets  her  old  telegram  or  not,  after  all  the  trouble 
she's  made  me. 

BETTY.  Oh,  but  it  might  be  important, 
Georgiana. 

49 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

HELEN.  Maybe  her  Prom,  man  —  oh,  but 
she's  a  freshman.  She  would  n't  have  one. 

GEORGIANA.  It  does  seem  to  be  from  a  Prom, 
man.  I  read  it  before  I  saw  the  address. 

MADELINE  (hastily).  That's  all  right,  Helen. 
Georgia  Ames  takes  so  much  upper-class  work 
that  she  was  invited  by  our  class  to  come  to  the 
Prom.  (Looks  around  vaguely.)  I'm  quite  sure 
somebody  mentioned  wanting  to  invite  her. 

GEORGIANA.  Well,  I  think  it  was  very  silly 
of  the  class  to  invite  a  freshman  —  specially  a 
freshman  nobody  knows. 

ALL  (in  chorus).    Why,  we  all  know  Georgia! 

GEORGIANA  (scornfully).  You  know  her 
awfully  well,  don't  you  ?  Why,  you  don't  even 
know  where  she  lives.  (To  MADELINE.)  How 
can  you  deliver  her  telegram? 

MADELINE  (calmly).  I  can  inquire  at  the 
registrar's  office,  as  I've  been  expecting  you  to 
do  for  some  weeks  past.  You  may  trust  me, 
Georgiana.  I'm  a  person  of  infinite  resource. 

GEORGIANA.  Well,  do  as  you  like.  (Drops 
telegram  and  parcel  on  desk).  I'm  going  to  finish 
dressing.  (Exit.) 

BABBIE.     Good-bye,  Georgiana! 

BABE.    Cheer  up,  Georgiana! 

BOB.  Drown  your  sorrows  in  Prom,  day  teas, 
Georgiana ! 

MADELINE  (Hurries  to  desk.  Opens  telegram 
and  reads,  while  HELEN  undoes  package,  noting 
address  curiously.  The  rest  crowd  around  MADE- 
LINE.) "Winsted,  Mass.,  May  5.  Can  make 
Prom,  after  all.  Hope  you  are  half  as  pleased 

50 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

as  I  am.  Will  reach  Harding  four-thirty  from 
Junction.  Have  wired  auto  to  meet  us  at  train. 
O.  Upton  Kidd."  Now  whose  extra-special, 
regardless-of-expense,  altogether-grand-and-ele- 
gant  touch  is  this? 

BABBIE.     Is  n't  it  lovely! 

BOB.    Sounds  like  you,  Madeline. 

BABE.    Or  like  Roberta. 

ROBERTA.    I  did  n't  do  it. 

MADELINE.  Nor  I.  Did  n't  any  of  you : 
(Murmurs  of  negation  and  head-shaking.)  Well, 
who  of  Georgia's  backers  and  promoters  is 
absent  from  our  midst? 

BETTY  (counts  up).  Not  one.  The  Georgia- 
ites  are  all  here. 

MADELINE  (seriously).  Honestly,  did  n't  any 
of  you  send  this  telegram? 

BOB.    Not  I! 

BABBIE.    Nor  I! 

OTHERS  (repeating).  Not  I.  I  did  n't.  Wish 
I  had! 

HELEN  (excitedly).  Why,  then  somebody 
else  is  using  Georgia! 

MADELINE  (drops  down  on  a  cushion).  How- 
ever did  you  guess  that,  Helen  Chase? 

BETTY.    Read  the  telegram  again,  Madeline. 

MADELINE  (re-reads  telegram).  Four-thirty 
from  the  Junction  —  that  train's  due  in  about 
an  hour. 

ROBERTA  (hopefully).  It's  generally  late. 
(Sits  on  couch.) 

MADELINE.  Helpful  thought,  Roberta! 
(Takes  easy-chair.) 

51 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BABBIE.  Do  you  suppose  he's  really  coming, 
or  is  he  just  a  fake,  like  our  touches?  (B.'s  sit 
on  couch,  BABBIE  carefully  moving  dress  to  the 
back.) 

BABE.  Did  n't  Georgia  have  a  letter  once 
from  a  Mr.  Kidd  at  Winsted? 

BOB.  Sure  thing,  she  did.  Betty  got  it  off 
the  bulletin.  Don't  you  remember,  Betty? 

BETTY.  No  —  oh,  yes,  I  do  remember  too, 
Bob!  It's  somewhere  in  my  desk  now,  I  sup- 
pose. I'll  look.  (Sits  down  at  desk  and  rum- 
mages through  papers.} 

BABBIE.  Well,  do  you  suppose  he's  really 
coming,  or  is  he  just  a  fake? 

MADELINE.  This  telegram  sounds  pretty 
real  to  me.  An  outsider  would  n't  understand 
the  rules  of  the  Georgia  game,  so  Mr.  Kidd  may 
easily  be  the  real  live  article.  By  the  way, 
we've  forgotten  the  package. 

HELEN  (takes  package  from  desk  and  passes  it 
to  BABE).  Oh,  it's  a  picture  —  a  girl's  picture. 
And  it's  addressed  to  Mr.  O.  Upton  Kidd,  care 
of  Georgia.  It's  been  forwarded  from  Winsted. 

BABE.  What  a  pretty  girl!  I  love  that  dim, 
misty  effect  in  photographs. 

MADELINE  (examines  it).  The  artistic  blur  is 
pretty  pronounced,  I  think.  I  strongly  suspect 
that  she  was  n't  a  pretty  girl. 

HELEN.  But  the  point  is,  does  n't  Mr.  Kidd's 
having  this  package  forwarded  to  him  from 
Winsted  make  him  seem  all  the  more  real? 

BOB.    It  certainly  does. 

HELEN.    There  must  be  such  a  man. 

52 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BOB.    I'm  afraid  there  is. 

HELEN.  And  I'm  afraid  he  thinks  there  is 
a  real  Georgia  Ames. 

BETTY.    Here's  his  letter.     (Rises.) 

BOB  (jumps  up  and  reads  over  her  shoulder). 
"  My  dear  Miss  Ames :  Too  bad  you  can't  come 
to  our  frat.  dance.  You  can't  imagine  how  I've 
counted  on  it.  Your  promise  of  your  picture  is 
poor  consolation,  but  you  can  safely  bet  it  will 
have  the  place  of  honor  in  these  diggings. 

"Am  off  for  a  Sunday  in  New  York. 
"Yours  ever, 

"O.  Upton  Kidd. 
"Delta  Nu  House,  Winsted." 

BETTY.  Who  sent  that  letter?  I  thought 
you  all  saw  it  when  it  came. 

HELEN  (looks  around.  All  shake  their  heads). 
Nobody  here  sent  it. 

ROBERTA.  Is  this  picture  supposed  to  be  of 
Georgia?  Whose  stunty  touch  is  the  picture? 

BABE.    Nobody's  here. 

MADELINE  (sternly).  Evidently  someone  has 
told  the  secret.  (Clamorous  denials  from  all.) 
Well,  then  it's  just  leaked  out  —  been  dis- 
covered in  spite  of  us. 

BABBIE.  But  girls,  it  is  n't  playing  the 
Georgia-game  according  to  Rules  to  bring  a 
strange  Winsted  man  over  here  to  go  to  the 
Prom,  with  Georgia. 

HELEN.  We  almost  ought  to  meet  him  and 
explain. 

BOB.  We  almost  ought  to  take  him  to  the 
Prom.  Really,  it's  only  decent,  if  he  really 

53 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

comes  up  expecting  to  go,  all  fair  and  square. 
We  did  n't  ask  him,  of  course,  —  but  we're 
responsible  for  Georgia. 

BABE.  But  we've  all  got  men  of  our  own 
coming. 

BABBIE.  All  but  Helen.  She  would  n't  ask 
a  man.  Helen  Chase,  you've  got  to  take  Mr. 
Kidd  to  the  Prom. 

MADELINE.  That  is,  if  there  is  a  Mr.  Kidd, 
and  if  he  comes  on  the  four-thirty.  I'll  help 
you  meet  him,  Helen.  There  will  be  a  good 
deal  to  explain,  and  I'm  rather  extra-specially 
good  at  explaining  things. 

HELEN  (staring  at  them  desperately).  Oh,  I 
can't.  He'd  hate  it!  I  can't  talk  to  men!  I 
should  nearly  die!  Oh,  Betty,  you  Ve  got  to 
do  something.  You  always  can  fix  things  up. 
I  can't  (almost  crying)  take  a  man  to  the  Prom. 

BETTY.  Well,  I  never  had  anything  like  this 
to  fix  up,  Helen,  but  we'll  all  do  our  best.  Sit 
down,  girls,  and  let's  think  hard. 

BABBIE.    Bob,  you  ought  to  go  and  — 

BOB.  No,  sir!  My  man  Samuel  can  be  kept 
waiting,  but  Mr.  Kidd  can't. 

ROBERTA.  We've  been  so  secret  and  so  care- 
ful. I  don't  see  how  Georgia  could  have  leaked 
out,  unless  —  I  told  you  all  how  Mary  Brooks 
picked  up  the  envelope  with  those  stories. 

MADELINE.  She  could  n't  have  guessed 
everything  just  from  that.  You  said  she  hardly 
glanced  at  it. 

BETTY.  Did  you  ever  find  whether  she  took 
the  handkerchief? 

54 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BABBIE.  No.  It  just  simply  disappeared, 
and  has  never  been  heard  from  since. 

ROBERTA.  Oh,  I  don't  believe  that  Man- 
knows  about  Georgia.  I'm  quite  sure  no  Mr. 
Kidd  ever  calls  on  her.  Then  she's  been  worry- 
ing a  lot  about  having  turned  down  Prissy*  s 
pet  pupil.  She's  spoken  of  it  several  times. 

BOB.  I've  heard  her.  She  could  n't  have 
been  fooling!  She  seemed  just  as  honest! 

BETTY.  I  shall  never  again  wish  there  were 
two  of  me!  Second  selves  are  a  lot  more  bother 
than  help,  I've  discovered.  Do  think  hard, 
girls.  It's  getting  later  every  minute. 

BOB.    Quite  true.    And  we're  in  a  mess. 

MADELINE.  Would  n't  Dottie  King  take 
him? 

BETTY.  No,  she  has  that  little  sub-freshman 
cousin  to  look  after. 

HELEN.  I  can't  take  him  to  the  Prom.  I 
just  can't.  Please  say  I  need  n't,  Madeline! 

ROBERTA  (gallantly).  Take  my  Boston  man, 
Helen.  You  like  him.  And  I'll  take  Mr.  Kidd 
—  that  is  —  if  anyone  has  to.  Could  n't  we 
just  meet  him  and  explain? 

BABBIE.  I  don't  think  it  would  be  so  bad  to 
take  the  mysterious  Mr.  Kidd  to  the  Prom. 
But  —  would  it  be  proper  to  bring  a  strange 
man?  I  guess  it  would  n't.  That  let's  Helen 
out,  maybe,  but  it  does  n't  help  poor  Mr.  Kidd 
any.  (Gloomy  silence.  Knock  on  door,  R.) 

BETTY.  Oh  dear,  we're  going  to  be  inter- 
rupted. Why  did  n't  somebody  remind  me  to 
put  up  an  "engaged"  sign?  Come  in! 

55 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

(Enter  MARY  BROOKS,  wearing  her  "beamish" 
smile.  BETTY  hastily  hides  telegram  and  HELEN 
tucks  away  picture.} 

MARY  (surveying  the  room  with  interest).  Is 
this  a  clothes  show,  or  a  mourning  party  to 
sympathize  with  somebody  whose  Prom,  man 
can't  come  ?  The  clothes  I  see  are  very  fascinat- 
ing, and  the  gloom  I  feel  is  (giggles}  very,  very 
deep.  (The  others  exchange  glances.} 

BABBIE  (with  dignity}.  I  must  be  going, 
Betty.  Come,  Bob.  You've  simply  got  to 
dress.  Babe,  come  and  help  me  make  Bob 
dress. 

MADELINE.  Come,  Helen,  we've  got  business 
ahead.  Don't  worry,  girls.  (Watches  Mary's 
face}  We'll  manage  things  somehow. 

MARY  (has  been  covertly  looking  for  telegram. 
Now  finds  and  waves  it.}  Oh  you  kids!  Oh  you 
kids!!  Oh  — you  — kids  I 

HELEN  (slowly).  O.  Upton  Kidd  —  O.  U. 
Kidd  —  Oh  you  kids.  Girls,  why  did  n't  we 
think  of  that  before? 

MADELINE.     Oh,  you  villain! 

CHORUS.    Oh,  you  villain!    Villain!    Villain! 

ROBERTA  (solemnly).  Mary  Brooks,  how  did 
you  ever,  ever  guess  about  Georgia? 

MARY.  Nothing  easier,  for  a  "champeen" 
guesser  like  little  Mary.  Some  day  I  wish  you'd 
kindly  explain  a  few  small  details  that  I  couldn't 
piece  together.  Just  now  I  — 

MADELINE  (snatches  telegram  from  Mary.} 
Did  you  send  that? 

HELEN  (waves  letter}.    And  this? 

56 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

ROBERTA  {wooes  photograph).    And  this? 

MARY.  It  ill  becomes  a  modest  violet  like  me 
to  admit  it  —  but  I  did  it  all !  Alone  I  did  it  all ! 

HELEN.   Then  there  is  n't  any  Mr.  Kidd ! 

MARY.    Astute  child,  there  is  not. 

MADELINE.  Whose  picture  is  this  vision  of 
dim  loveliness? 

MARY.  Composite  picture  of  the  senior  class 
at  my  little  sister's  school.'  Oh,  I  did  n't  do  it 
quite  alone,  to  be  accurate.  My  cousin-by- 
courtesy  Billy  Wilson  attended  to  the  Winsted 
end  of  the  stunt  for  me.  Come,  children,  admit 
that  little  Mary's  too  much  for  you,  and  thank 
me  for  not  letting  you  go  to  the  station  to  meet 
Mr.  Kidd.  Any  more  questions?  Well  then, 
I  must  be  going.  I'm  helping  Dottie  King 
show  her  sub-freshman  cousin  the  joys  and 
beauties  of  spring  term.  (Pausing  at  door,  R.) 
You  children  must  all  meet  her.  (Laughs.) 
You  really  must. 

MADELINE.  We'll-  get  even  with  you  yet, 
Mary  Brooks. 

MARY.  Oh,  no,  you  won't.  I've  got  another 
trump  card  up  my  sleeve.  Oh,  you  kids!  (Exit 
R.t  laughing.) 

BOB.    Now  what  does  she  mean  by  that? 

BABBIE.  She's  a  frightful  tease,  but  isn't 
she  fun? 

HELEN.  Well,  I'm  thankful  there's  no  Mr. 
Kidd. 

MADELINE.  Had  n't  he  a  lovely  name? 
Nicer  than  Georgia's. 

BABE.    Let's  sing  to  him.    Madeline,  provide 

57 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

the  necessary  rhyme,  please.    Helen,  try  to  sing 
in  tune.     You  can't,  but  you  can  try.     Now! 

ALL  (singing  to  tune,  "Balm  of  Gilead." 
BABBIE  waves  her  rose,  BOB  her  gym  shoes,  BETTY 
her  gloves,  HELEN  the  letter,  MADELINE  the  tele- 
gram, ROBERTA  the  photograph,  in  time  to  the 
music,  which  BABE  leads,  waving  her  parasol.} 

"Here's  to  O.  U.  Kidd,  drink  him  down! 
Here's  to  O.  U.  Kidd,  drink  him  down! 
Here's  to  O.  U.  Kidd, 

MADELINE.    He  tuck  us  in,  he  did! 

ALL.  Here's  to  O.  U.  Kidd,  drink  him 

down,  down,  down! 

BETTY.  And  now  we  positively  must  sing 
to  Georgia  Ames. 

BABE  (loudly).  Oh  yes  —  that  one  about 
Prissy  Hicks.  (She  beats  time  and  leads.} 

ALL  (singing).  Here's  to  Georgia  Ames,  drink 
her  down  —  (Knock  heard  at  door,  R.} 

BETTY.  Oh,  stop,  stop,  girls,  there's  someone 
knocking.  (The  door  R.  opens  and  Miss  HICKS 
enters  unceremoniously.  Consternation  among 
the  girls.  All  rise  and  try  to  look  unconscious 
of  having  mentioned  Prissy.} 

BETTY  (coming forward}.  Oh,  good  afternoon, 
Miss  Hicks.  I'm  very  glad  — 

Miss  H.    I  was  passing  your  door,  Miss  — 

ALL  (hastily  and  loudly}.    Wales! 

Miss  H.  Thank  you,  young  ladies.  I  was 
passing  the  door  of  your  room,  Miss  Wales,  on 
my  way  to  pay  a  call  on  my  colleague,  Miss 
Eaton,  and  I  thought  I  heard  Miss  Georgia 
Ames's  name  —  er  —  spoken. 

58 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BOB  (sweetly).    Sung,  Miss  Hicks. 

Miss  H.  (ignoring  BOB).  Is  Miss  Ames 
present?  I  had  desired  an  interview,  and  she 
seems  — 

MADELINE  (answering  BETTY'S  signals  of 
distress).  Elusive,  doesn't  she,  Miss  Hicks? 

BOB.  Georgia  Ames  has  left  college,  Miss 
Hicks. 

MADELINE  (hastily,  for  fear  of  a  slip  on  BOB'S 
part).  Yes,  Miss  Hicks.  We  were  saying 
good-bye  and  singing  to  her.  Did  n't  you  pass 
anyone  in  the  hall?  (Suppressed  giggles  from 
the  B.'s.) 

Miss  H.  (suspiciously).  Why  is  Miss  Ames 
leaving  college? 

MADELINE,  BETTY,  BOB,  HELEN  (in  chorus). 
On  account  of  her  health ! 

Miss  H.  (icily).  Thank  you,  young  ladies. 
Good  afternoon.  (Exit  R.  Door  remains  open 
and  BETTY  near  it.) 

BETTY.    Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that  ? 

MADELINE.  I  guess  she  did  n't  hear  us 
mention  her  name,  so  that's  all  right.  But  do 
you  realize  what  has  happened?  Our  dear, 
dear  Georgia  is  lost  and  gone  forever. 

(GEORGIA  AMES   appears  at  door  up   R.) 

GEORGIA  (timidly).  Is  this  Miss  Wales's 
room  ? 

BETTY  (cordially).  Yes.  Come  in.  I  am 
Miss  Wales. 

GEORGIA.  Oh,  Miss  Wales,  I  —  I  hope  I'm 
not  intruding  —  I'm  Dottie  King's  cousin, 
and  — 

59 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

BETTY.  Oh,  are  you  ?  I'm  so  glad  to  meet  you. 

GEORGIA.  I  wanted  to  thank  you  for  the 
perfectly  lovely  handkerchief,  and  Miss  Brooks 
said  you'd  like  it  if  I  came  right  over. 

BETTY.  Yes,  indeed.  But  I  don't  under- 
stand. What  handkerchief? 

GEORGIA.  Why,  this.  (Holds  out  handker- 
chief.} Was  n't  it  for  me  ?  It  has  my  name  on  it. 

BABBIE  (going  up  R.)  Let  me  see  it,  Betty. 
(Takes  handkerchief  and  holds  it  up  dramati- 
cally.} Girls,  it's  the  one! 

MADELINE.  The  one  that  was  in  the  Note 
Room?  (To  GEORGIA.)  You  don't  mean  that 
your  real  name  is  Georgia  Ames? 

GEORGIA  (bewildered).     Why,  yes,  of  course. 

BOB.    Just  little  Mary's  luck! 

(The  girls  stare  at  each  other  and  then  burst  out 
laughing.  The  three  B.'s  hug  each  other  and  roll 
on  the  couch.} 

BETTY  (to  GEORGIA).  You  must  n't  mind 
them, Miss  Ames.  It's  a  joke,  but  it's  not  on  you. 
(Enter  MARY  BROOKS,  up  R.} 

MARY.  No,  it's  on  them,  Georgia.  You 
made  a  hit,  all  right.  Girls,  she's  my  trump 
card.  The  real  Georgia  Ames!  Is  n't  it  lovely? 

GEORGIA.  Oh,  are  you  the  ones  who  made 
up  a  Georgia  Ames  ? 

MARY.  The  same,  my  child.  But  they're 
sorry,  and  they'll  never  do  it  again.  And  if  you 
can  live  up  to  her  reputation  for  brains,  and  — 

ROBERTA  (interrupts).  And  literary  ability 
and  — 

BABBIE  (interrupts).    Popularity  and — 

60 


THE      BETTY     WALES     GIRLS 

MADELINE  (interrupts).  Voluminous  corres- 
pondence — 

MARY  (to  GEORGIA).  You'll  be  going  some, 
my  child. 

GEORGIA.    Oh  dear,  I'm  not  a  bit  — 

BABBIE.  Never  mind,  we're  all  good  friends 
of  Georgia  Ames.  We'll  look  out  for  you. 

BETTY.  Let's  begin  by  singing  to  Georgia 
Ames  again  —  the  real  one  this  time. 

BABE.  Sure.  Now!  (She  leads  as  before. 
Att  but  GEORGIA  sing.) 

"Here's  to  Georgia  Ames,  drink  her  down, 
Here's  to  Georgia  Ames,  drink  her  down, 
Here's  to  Georgia  Ames, 

MADELINE.    Even  Prissy  Hicks  she  tames! 

ALL.  Here's  to  Georgia  Ames,  drink 

her  down,  down,  down! 

MARY  (briskly).  And  now  come  on,  Georgia. 
Dottie's  waiting  for  us.  You'll  see  them  all  at 
the  Prom,  to-night. 

BABE.  Good-bye,  Only  Real  Georgia  — 
They'll  call  you  that  you  know. 

MADELINE.  Good-bye,  Miss  O.  U.  Kidd.  I 
wish  we'd  thought  to  call  you  that. 

BETTY.  Only  then  you  could  n't  have  turned 
out  real,  could  you? 

MARY  (to  BETTY,  pointing  to  GEORGIA).  And 
the  moral  of  that  is:  Who  would  have  thought 
it?  Or,  Truth  is  stranger  than  Fiction.  (Att 
laugh.  MARY  and  GEORGIA  about  to  exit  R.) 

ALL  (except  MARY  and  GEORGIA).  That's  so, 
Mary  Brooks!  Good-bye! 

CURTAIN. 

61 


1111 

A    000028818    3 


